The half-god, the seamonster and the princess in question
by Bella
Summary: Britain at war! Lady Mary Crawley a bigamist! The stunning revelation of Carson's very secret identity! What happened to Mrs Patmore's chocolate sauce? And who is late? And what has this all got to do with Shakespeare? Or in other words: a Downtonverse –style M/M wedding.
1. Chapter 1

The half-god, the sea monster and the princess in question

**Summary: Britain at war! Lady Mary Crawley a bigamist! The stunning revelation of Carson's very secret identity! What happened to Mrs Patmore's chocolate sauce? And who is late? And what has this all got to do with Shakespeare? Or in other words: a Downtonverse –style M/M wedding.**

**A/N : I feel like I should give an overview in which order an interested reader should read my stories to avoid getting confused (including myself****)**

Proper ladies and gentlemen - January 1912  
Proper gentlemen and ladies - January 1912  
Failed meeting of expectations - October 1913  
Turning tables – April / May 1914  
What Lady Mary wants - June 1914  
A chance at happiness - Spring 1918  
A dying man's musings – Christmas 1919

**Chapter I**

Double, double toil and trouble

The storm broke loose roughly a week before the wedding – masterfully executed by the spurned Sir Richard, who gave the family no quarter. He dragged it all out and gave it the worst spin possible, tightening the screw with each turn, every day. He started "gently" with the story of the whorish Ethel and her bastard child, which led to loaded questions just how "well" the convalescent officers had been attended to by nurses and house-maids on Downton Abbey. Next he tore into Daisy, portraying her as a greedy girl preying on the affections of a dying soldier and making him marry her in order to secure a war widow's pension. Then he revealed Carson's history as one half of the "Singing Charlies", ridiculing him and the Earl of Grantham.

The tones got darker again, when he revealed O' Brian's best kept secret – the soap incident. This time he targeted Mary and Matthew, who had back then asked Mary to marry him. Ingeniously he made it look that Matthew had stood to gain most by this tragic 'accident'. Matthew wanted Mary, to whom he was a slave, but the cold and scheming Lady Mary wanted only Downton, its riches and the title as Countess, so in order to get Mary he had to remove the obstacle of Cora's unborn child. Very visibly Matthew was picked up by the police from his work for questioning for conspiracy to murder and how fortunate that a reporter working for Carlisle was nearby, when it happened and therefore the whole of England could read all about it the next morning as a nice follow-up. Thank God, the inspector in charge in York dropped his charges quickly enough on the insistence of his superior, when O' Brian's motives were revealed and she swore that Matthew was never a factor in her deeds, as if she would have ever lifted a finger for this social upstart and wanna-be gentleman! And Matthew's total bewilderment spoke of his innocence most eloquently in all this.

Next he revealed the misappropriation of army funds to help pay for the soup kitchen the staff in Crawley House had installed for discharged vagabonding common soldiers instead of using it to cover the running costs of the convalescence home for officers, which alerted the War Office and suddenly Lord and Lady Grantham had to answer for every farthing they had received during the war. This was directly related to the rumour that Lord Grantham had heavily invested in the Canadian Great Trunk Line - a now bankrupt company - and Carlisle openly speculated how much his lordship had lost of his wife's fortune to sheer mismanagement.

Another day was devoted to Bates's murder trial in York – a man who had killed his wife in order to marry another woman. Granted, it wasn't the first time in history, but he was the valet of afore-mentioned earl, his intended Anna Smith an aspiring lady's maid of Lady Mary, which made it all the more scandalous.

Three days before the wedding the sad and tragic story of Patrick Crawley/Gordon was revealed and how his arrival at the Abbey had split the family in two camps. Lady Edith had staunchly supported the burned beyond recognition Patrick, Lady Mary had equally fought ruthlessly for the crippled Matthew. The rest of the family had helplessly watched as the well-known pure hate between the sisters had soared to an all-time high. The Earl was torn between the two men: One presumably an imposter, but potent, one acknowledged as heir, but impotent and unable to continue the line of Grantham. So, who was the true heir? And where was Patrick Gordon a.k.a. Patrick Crawley now? Was he even still alive? No one had seen him leave and his fate was left in the mists. Carlisle even had the gall to offer a reward for any valid information on the whereabouts of Patrick Gordon/Patrick Crawley. And once more Matthew Crawley had stood to gain most. Graciously Carlisle let the reader make up their mind what to make of _that_.

Then he turned to Sybil and her mésalliance with the chauffeur, an outspoken socialist and Irish rebel, who had used his position in the Abbey's household to seduce an impressionable, war traumatised young woman, whose rebellious bucking against the customs of her class was well-known. Carlisle made it a symptom of the degeneration and moral bankruptcy of the ruling class and speculated, if all Crawley sisters had a taste for the lower classes and if this was to be considered a declaration of war against their own roots, which was retaliated in equal measure by making the entire family the social pariah among their peers, as their general consensus appeared to be to maintain and cling to the pre-war status at all cost.

And then one day before the wedding Matthew once more got dragged through the mud. This time the story was told about how he tried to seduce the happily engaged to be married Mary, while his own fiancée laid on her deathbed fighting for her life, mere three days before their wedding. This time Matthew did not get off scot-free. While the partners at his law firm had been somewhat understanding and lenient due to his position as future Earl of Grantham when he was questioned earlier by the police and proven innocent, this was the final straw. Matthew's contract was terminated immediately. They couldn't afford to keep a man employed who was so heavily shrouded in scandal and of such objectionable morale.

Raising the stakes every day with a new, even more scandalous story about the infamous Downton Abbey and the not so honourable Crawley family, he had all of England in suspense and thrill. It was a mess and England sat down to watch, as Richard kindly provided his readers with the consequences of their scandals blow by blow. Everyone was sick and tired of war stories and how England struggled to stay afloat with the crippled in body and mind, the many, many hands that were needed in agriculture and every aspect of industry and the service sector and Women's Rights. Sir Richard delivered what the nation needed – a delightful distraction from everyday sorrows. After all he needed to be compensated for his efforts over four years of painful courtship and when the selling of Haxby Park hadn't even come close to cover the costs of buying and renovating it with prices as they were in post-war Britain and the economy struggling.

It very nearly tore the Abbey apart. Accusations at breakfast, tears for luncheon, shouting matches as evening entertainment. Upstairs, downstairs, tensions were running high. They drowned in cancellations. The day before the wedding their number of guests had dwindled down from over 200 to merely 40, consisting of the closest family and trusted and faithful friends. The staff was accosted in Downton village the moment they dared to show their faces and deliveries were suddenly inexplicably delayed. Suppliers, who had faithfully delivered goods and rendered services to the family for decades, suddenly tried to cash in every outstanding invoice or refused to act without a payment in advance or severed ties based on moral grounds. And the bookmakers had bets running, if the Crawley wedding would take place or not.

Carlisle's Fleet Street competition jumped onto the band wagon, when Downton Abbey started to fight back against the bad press by telling how things really were with Edith of all as spearhead and chief strategist. In turn it was they to point out that Carlisle had been engaged to Lady Mary for three years only to be thrown over the very moment Matthew Crawley had come out of mourning, so how credible were Carlisle's revelations truly? Officers who had been nursed at the Abbey wrote letters to the editors to support the Crawley family. One Mrs. James Wakefield, mother of the late Private Jack Wakefield sent flaming letters to Sir Richard's office and the Times to extoll the virtues of Captain Matthew Crawley, a beacon of light in the darkness of the killing fields in France, a most honourable, decent and brave man. Others who had served under Matthew and lived to tell the tale followed – Matthew Crawley became almost overnight one of Britain's most renowned war heroes - to the man's utter and embarrassed astonishment.

In short, Britain was at war – a press war. And Carlisle suddenly found himself on the defence. But as long as it sold newspaper copies faster than he could print them, he shrugged it off. He had one last arrow in the quiver. And he shot it on Mary's and Matthew's wedding day. The overwhelmed constabulary in Ripon promptly requested additional forces from York to contain the expected masses that were there either to support the Crawleys or to riot against them as representatives of the useless, blood-sucking, morally bankrupt upper class. Others were simply curious, if there would be a wedding after they had read for breakfast the salacious story of the Crawley slut. And others again just wanted to glimpse the purportedly dashing Captain Crawley, who had stood up from his wheel-chair and wanted to marry his true love, even if she had fallen – a most romantic, fairy tale love story.

The family and staff rallied to present a united front and then it was time and the faithful guests were first to arrive and were promptly accosted on their way to church by onlookers and members of the press.

Matthew and his best man and friend Philipp Finley were taken aback, when they arrived at the church next. They were forewarned by Mr. Travis of the thousands of people, who were swarming the small village since the day before and with clever businessmen setting up booths and turning the wedding into an impromptu country fair, but this was beyond anything they had imagined. Hands were raised up to the air, shouts of support, cheers and boos accompanied them, British flags were waved and children held up by their parents to glimpse the groom while dozens of police men tried to cordon off the street to let the groom's car pass on its way to the church, where photographers and reporters had assembled to be as close to the action as humanly possible.

Getting out of the car, Matthew turned around to smile and wave back, dozens of flashlights blinded him momentarily and catapulted him back into the trenches for a moment, but Philipp jostled him out of it before anyone noticed. Impressed to the point of sheer intimidation he exclaimed unguardedly and was later quoted in most newspapers: "Bloody hell, Matthew, have they forgotten this is only Downton and not Westminster Abbey?"

And then the tension rose again. Would Lady Mary show her face? Matthew sat relaxed in the front pew after he had chatted with their guests, joked with friends, charmed the dowager countess and won over for good Mary's American grand-mama, smiled, laughed and gave off the air of a man without the slightest care in the world.

And from far away a roar echoed through the streets, getting louder by the second – Lady Mary arrived in her carriage. Robert, her godfather Lord Merton and Thomas tried to shield her as much as possible from the questions reporters shouted at her and the flashlights, and then they were in the church. The doors got closed on reporters and onlookers.

It was time for Mary. Taking deep breaths to collect themselves in the anteroom, Anna helped straighten Mary's train. The music began and Mary took her first step on her father's arm down the aisle, conscious of the dozens of eyes following her, taking in her radiance and Matthew's bright eyes and happy smile. Robert handed her over to Matthew with a benevolent nod and poorly concealed relief and then…

… Matthew stopped everything with a small wave of his hand.

TBC...

_I know, some of you will be disappointed that not Tom but Phil is Matthew's best man. But trust me he's there for a very good reason! _


	2. Forever and a day

**Chapter II**

_A/N: I don't always say it, but I'd like to thank my readers and my reviewers for taking their time to R&amp;R. _

* * *

_**"For ever and a day"**_

Anxiety levels rose, hearts flattered. What now? Surely, this didn't mean…..

"Matthew, what the hell…?" Robert stage-whispered, purposefully ignoring the indignant glare of the Archbishop.

"I apologise for worrying you for a moment. Everything's fine. I'm not about to jump ship, Mary doesn't have cold feet. But we can't go on yet. One of our extended family is still missing. Just give him a couple of minutes more to show up." Matthew turned to the assembly and spoke in a clear voice.

"Mary?" Cora questioned, wanting to be reassured. With these two one just never knew.

Murmurs started to rose. Robert stood up and walked over to the couple. The Archbishop was put out. He was a very busy man after all and this media circus was not to his liking. In fact since he read the morning paper he pondered, if he ought to conduct the marriage ceremony of a woman who had lost her virtue under suspicious circumstances (and to a foreigner whose country fought on the enemy's side during the war!). On the other hand the groom was a widely acknowledged war hero and to refuse now was bad policy for the Church. It was most disturbing and now this delay!

"Mary, what's going on? Who's missing?" Cora and Isobel exchanged worried glances. The dowager countess made her disapproval known.

The guests started talking louder; open speculations flew from left to right and from front to the back. Whom were they waiting for? Finally the church doors opened again and a couple of men entered under another storm of flashlights.

"I'm sorry, milord. But I've been detained."

Robert whirled around.

"BATES!" He shouted delighted and started to walk briskly down the aisle only to be overtaken by Anna who ran up to her husband and practically leapt into his arms. "John!" She sobbed and then proceeded to kiss him senseless, propriety be damned for a moment.

"Bates, I cannot tell you how good it is to see you, my good man. I'm glad to find you looking so well."

Robert shook his hand heartily, after Anna had released her husband for a second. The bridal couple smiled happily. Anna couldn't let go of her husband for even a moment and he clung to her, too.

"Master Matthew made it possible for me to leave for 24 hours due to extenuating circumstances and on his word of honour. I wouldn't know how he managed to pull it off or whose arm he twisted to archive this."

Anna's eyes were blind from tears. Suddenly she tore herself away from her husband and ran down the aisle towards the altar. Forgetting everything she fell Mary around the neck and hugged her as fiercely as she could, which Mary returned in equal measure, while the beaming Matthew Crawley watched content.

"Thanks so much, milady, Master Matthew. Thank you so, so much. I'm so happy, I could burst." Remembering who she embraced, she blushed deeply. "I'm sorry, milady."

"Nonsense, Anna. You know we hold you and Bates in highest regards. You are part of our family. And don't you worry about your duties this evening. Enjoy your short time with your husband before he can come home for good when this mess is finally sorted out and his innocence proven."

"But, milady, how will you...?" She whispered, forgetting that everything said at the altar was transported to the entire church due to acoustics.

"Matthew volunteers to take on your tasks. Just meet up with us at Grantham House tomorrow afternoon before we leave for the station."

"I see. Well, I have every confidence that he will turn out to be an excellent lady's maid." She teased with a twinkle in her eyes. They giggled, while Matthew rolled his eyes at the silly women.

"I dare any happily married man to deny that he has been a lady's maid for his wife once or twice." He commented drily.

"I see there's still hope for this family." Martha Levinson's loud commentary added fuel to the fire.

"Why my dear Martha, we might be steeped deeply in tradition and history, but not so much that we can't improvise and adapt if need be." Violet stated firmly.

„Polly, quit fidgeting! " Mrs. Hughes hissed in one of the pews at the rear. Really, what was wrong with the girl? Ever since she had cleaned Lady Mary's room the day before, the girl was a bundle of nerves.

* * *

"… or forever hold your peace." The Archbishop followed the sacred ritual.

The young house-maid jumped up.

"I speak up. They can't get married!"

"POLLY JONES! HOW DARE YOU!" Mrs Hughes shouted and tried to pull the agitated girl down. "I'm so sorry, milord. That wretched girl…"

"But they CAN'T! It wouldn't be right!" The girl cried out in deep distress, struggling against the housekeeper and Thomas Barrow.

"POLLY! BE QUIET! You speak of things you have no knowledge of." Mr. Carson bellowed.

"But…"

"SHUT UP, stupid thing! If Mr. Carson says to be quiet, then you ARE quiet, because Mr. Carson is god. And when god speaks, you listen and OBEY." Thomas scathed.

"No, let the girl speak", the Archbishop came to her defence. This family was so heavily shrouded in scandal at the moment... If there was anything to her words, he had to make sure.

"I'm so sorry, but …. she's already married! Lady Mary, she's already married. And not to Master Matthew."

It was deathly quiet. Mary and Matthew flinched noticeably.

"I'm so sorry, milady, Master Matthew, but she saw the last letter. Mr. Carson and I tried to hush her, but she just wouldn't listen." Anna spoke up quietly, but not quietly enough.

"WHAT LETTER, GIRL?" Robert thundered.

"The letter I found on her ladyship's vanity, milord. He calls her 'my darling wife' and it is signed by a man called Percy. And he ain't a gentleman, that's for sure! The things he writes… shameful, most sinful things. So awful I can't repeat the words. It's too…the very words of the Devil, that's what they are, milord!" She started to wail loudly.

"Well, where do you think babies come from?" Thomas scathed once more.

"From Mr. Carson." Polly answered in the manner of people who know they are unshakably right.

"What?!" Mr. Carson was struck by shock.

"Thomas says Mr. Carson is god. And god sends babies to god-fearing married couples to reward them for their faith."

"Dear Lord, I can only imagine how hard it is to find good personnel in England, nowadays, but this is clearly scraping the bottom of the barrel." Martha commented loudly and breaking thus the momentary spell under which everyone seemed to reel for a second or two in the face of such a stunning leap of logic. His lordship recovered first.

"MARY, EXPLAIN! ARE YOU MARRIED? WHO'S THAT MAN? HAVEN'T YOU ALREADY MADE ENOUGH MISTAKES! GOOD GOD, I SHOULD HAVE BOTH OF YOU BOUND AND GAGGED AND CLUBBED OVER THE HEAD FOR GOOD MEASURE AND THEN FROG MARCHED YOU TO THE ALTAR AND TELL MR. TRAVIS 'THEY DO' IN YOUR STEAD THE VERY MOMENT OF MATTHEW'S ARRIVAL IN DOWNTON IN 1912. BUT NO, I HAD TO BE A PROGRESSIVE FATHER AND LET YOU HAVE YOUR SAY IN THE CHOICE OF A HUSBAND AFTER PATRICK AND LOOK WHAT A SPECTACULAR MESS YOU MADE OUT OF IT! AND THAT APPLIES TO YOU, TOO, MATTHEW!"

The bridal couple shared a glance, a nod and their hands found each other for support and Matthew's arm sneaked around her waist to hold her close to him, which didn't go unnoticed by the assembly. Things got curioser and curioser.

"Not legally." Mary dropped another bomb, holding her head high and meeting her father's eyes unashamed.

"Then why haven't you…. And what about Matthew?" Cora was speechless.

"OH GOD! THIS IS THE END!" The dowager countess fell heavily back down onto her pew. This family was finished for all times.

"MATTHEW SAY SOMETHING, FOR GOD'S SAKES!"

"Carson, when Lady Mary and I return, the girl is gone." Matthew coldly replied in his hardest, most unforgiving voice, and therefore betraying how very furious he was. The family gasped in shock.

"As you wish, Master Matthew." Carson replied with a nod of obeisance. And Polly Jones started to wail once more and louder than ever. Why was she punished for doing the right thing?

"YOU KNOW?!" The voice of his lordship carried hysterical overtones. Never mind that Matthew usurped his authority.

"Of course I do." The _duh _was not said but quite heard in his voice as well as the unseen eye-roll. "And it's absolutely and quite alright. Just trust us, please."

"But I thought…. You love her. How can you?"

"Robert, Mary is as little or as much married as I am. That's all you or anyone else needs to know. The rest is, frankly speaking, none of your business."

"I have to agree with Master Matthew, your lordship. It truly is perfectly alright between them and everything as it should be. I personally had the honour and privilege along with Anna…"

"OF COURSE ANNA AGAIN!"

"…to witness this particular exchange of marriage vows before God at the altar of the Abbey's chapel about six months ago, milord."

"Oh, it was deep in the night and everyone asleep and only a handful candles were lit and their vows so beautiful and straight from the heart. It was ever so romantic." Anna sighed while trying to be supportive.

"Be that as it may, Anna. In my opinion Lady Mary couldn't have chosen a better or worthier man. Though I'd rather have this particular gentleman refrain from sending any more letters of that nature to Lady Mary in the future. It's most improper, sir!" Carson spoke up trying to uphold the dignity of the House of Grantham and to reassure his lord.

"I'll tell Percy, when I see him later, Carson, though I can't make any promises." Matthew replied gravely, but with laughing eyes.

The Archbishop looked at Lord Grantham, who closed his eyes in a pained grimace and nodded. He had never felt his age like in this moment. He felt betrayed and deeply disappointed in his daughter and his son by heart.

Still, if Lady Mary exchanged vows before God, then she was married from this point of view. The Archbishop couldn't proceed with this wedding in good conscience without knowing the precise circumstances and the exact wording of her first. Exchanging glances with Mr. Travis both stepped back and started quietly to confer.

* * *

The church portal opened again to let a petite woman enter.

"I apologise for being late. But the traffic to Downton is absolutely beastly. You'd think it Piccadilly Circus and then police didn't want to let me pass without an invitation. I hope I'm not too late to witness your 'I do's'."

She sauntered up the aisle.

"Elli, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Berlin and couldn't possibly come? We're so disappointed and rather cross with you over this, you know." Mary embraced her, very much pleased to see her friend and thankful for the momentary distraction her untimely arrival provided.

"I was and I thought I impossibly could, Mary. But you know me. I like to be where the most exiting action takes place. But since Sir Ridiculous has launched his attack on you, I knew Downton would be THE place to be on your wedding day. I'll never understand how he ever thought he might gain your love or at least your affection as long as Matthew walks the Earth. Anyway, I threw a few things into my suitcase and rushed over here." She turned her attention to Matthew. "Hello, Romeo. Handsome as always and I get the unexpected pleasure to finally see you in dress uniform, a vast improvement over your usual attire and habit of being filthy beyond recognition and verminous when you came in from the trenches, Captain."

Matthew hugged his friend with a teasing smile. "Edith made me change into it the very last minute. She says it's good for the public image or something of that nature, now that I'm apparently a hero." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "Hello, Juliet."

He kissed her softly on the lips. Lady Mary smiled indulgently. The congregation gaped with open mouths. There was no end to the scandals!

* * *

TBC…

A/N: I thought long and hard, if I wanted to have Matthew try to get married in dress uniform, that is speculating how probable it might be that he could. But then I thought of Agatha Christie's Captain Hastings and thought, is it so unlikely that Matthew just, just might still be part of the army as captain of the reserve? Or that he for whatever reasons still had the right to wear uniform as former member of the army? But then John married in morning suit in "Sherlock" and he's a former captain, too. Very confusing... and about a hundred years apart. And I admit freely I was too lazy to start researching the matter and gave myself artistic licence to dress Matthew Crawley as I see fit.


	3. The better part of valour is discretion

**_The better part of valour is discretion_**

_A/n: Happy Easter everyone!_

* * *

"Mhm, still most delicious." She sighed. "It's a heinous crime to waste you on Mary alone, Matthew. Tonight millions upon millions of women all over the world will burst into tears without even knowing why."

"Yes! Thank you, Elli! You're blushing, Matthew..." Mary said gleefully. "...and I win by 36 to 35."

"Elli doesn't count. And even if then Percy's first letter counts twice. You blushed so hard you could have stopped traffic in London, Anna told me. We're still even, Mary. 36 to 36."

"Let me guess. This is just another one of your crazy shenanigans you've come up with to shorten and sweeten time until your wedding. You truly deserve each other: You're both ...stark... raving ... mad. But I'm very happy for you and very glad I made it in time to be here on your most joyous day." She gripped their hands and squeezed them affectionately, before she turned to find a place in the pew next to the altar and the wide-eyed best man.

"Oh, Mrs Crawley, don't look so shocked." Eleanor exclaimed jauntily. "Every fairy tale love story needs a fairy godmother, in this case: moi. Because you have NO idea how often I dragged Matthew back from the brink of insanity Mary drove him to on a regular basis. He desperately needed someone who knows Mary outside of the family and let him rant and rave without judgement and works miracles, when things between them are a mess."

"You are...you're Edward, his friend from university and confidante" Isobel gasped.

"At your service, Mrs Crawley." She sketched a brief curtsey. "You will forgive our subterfuge. It would have just set tongues wagging for no good reason, if we had openly exchanged letters. But as of today I leave office and let them sort out things between them. They've grown up now. Oh, Anna, I trust you will be the one to accompany them to France? In that case, this wedding present is for you and may God help these two, if you don't need it."

"Thank you, milady." She peeked warily into the small bag and reared back again, blushing scarlet. Curious Mary and Matthew stepped closer to take a look themselves. The content: a blindfold and a big pack of waxen earplugs.

"Elli! You are absolutely impossible and way beyond redemption." Mary shook her head in mock indignation.

"Mhm, this is very thoughtful of you." Matthew smiled appreciatively. "We promise to try to fulfil every expectation you have of us and not let them go to waste."

"Don't try, do! Or I shall be forced to never speak a word to either of you." She glared at the bridal couple that looked properly chastened.

"Oh, Elli, we're so happy you came after all. We thought nothing could drag you away from witnessing the birth of a new state." Matthew thanked her while he tried to steer the attention back into more proper areas.

"Well, actually it's turning into a quite laborious affair and if they're not careful, it will be a stillborn. The vast majority of people are ill prepared to become democrats overnight on top of everything else. Anyway, my time there has come to a close. You can reach me at the Paris town house next."

"Paris!? What on Earth will you do there? Paris is quiet these days. You'll be bored to death within a week."

"I pass through on my way to Ireland. Things are heating up there, aren't they, Mr. Branson? I wouldn't want to miss anything important. Besides, I'm thinking about taking flight lessons. I want to become a pilot."

"Really? That's fantastic! I was once up during the war. What a great rush! Hey, maybe I take a licence, too."

For a moment Eleanor's and Matthew's gaze deepened.

"Over my dead body! I didn't get a wink of sleep, worrying myself sick over you and prayed every night for your life for four years and nursed you through your injury to sit idly by and watch you risk your life again for fun, Matthew Crawley." Mary objected fiercely.

"By God, Crawley, if you don't marry her, I'll do it!" Philipp Finley exclaimed in admiration.

"That's what I'm trying to do here! Only people don't let us! It's getting rather irksome!"

Glancing at the still quietly conversing, or rather arguing members of the church, Matthew turned back to his friend.

"Phil, what's the time?" He asked loudly to successfully divert their attention back to him and Mary.

"Quarter past. Why?"

"Would you please, Archbishop? Or do you prefer we elope? We can still catch the 11:34 at Ripon to York and then up to Gretna, if we hurry, Mary."

"Anna?" Mary nestled with her veil with Matthew's assistance. Gasps filled the air.

"Here, milady. Let me help you."

"Sir, with your permission? It's not necessary to elope quite so far as to Gretna. Behind the registry Pratt and Mr. Finley have parked a tanked up car for your disposal." Mosely spoke up.

"Here are the keys, Matthew." Finley showed the key ring. "All's ready. Just grab your Lady and run."

"Anna and I packed a small suitcase with essentials for you. Your former Sergeant Dawson is at the ready for you at the registry office in Manchester to wed you and a suite is booked at the _Malmaison_ under the name of Moseley. We didn't want to attract attention, sir, so I took the liberty to use my name. After the trouble Polly has been causing since yesterday morning we deemed it necessary to concoct a contingency plan, just in case."

Matthew was speechless.

"You did all that on top of everything else only yesterday? Moseley, I have to repeat myself. You ARE essential."

The valet/butler smiled proudly and nodded gratefully. He and his master had come a very long way, but at this moment another bond was forged between these unlikely men.

"Oh, in this case, I better give you my wedding present now. If you do elope, you might need it even more." Eleanor held up a key ring with several keys. "This is for the presently abandoned but cosy gardener's cottage of papa's summer residence in Menton directly at the seaside, secluded beach included. Total privacy guaranteed, my dears. This one's for the garage. The keys for the Bugatti hang next to the door to the main house, Matthew, it's this key. And this one's for the wine cellar. I recommend the Margaux or the Laffite. And there should be some bottles of Dom Pérignon left, at least I hope so. Papa has been down there recently, you know. Help yourself to whatever you need or want. Just give me a ring in Paris and I will see to it that the cottage will be opened for you." She let the key ring drop into Matthew's outstretched hand.

"Thank you. Maybe we will indeed make use of it."

"Now, Archbishop, a piece of advice: do not think they bluff. I know them very well and what they're capable of: They _will _get married today, even if you don't wed them, and the entire family _will _suffer a nervous breakdown as a consequence. Be it on your head, if we also have at least two strokes on top. The dowager countess already looks rather unwell." Eleanor spoke up.

"I'm very well aware of this… unique situation, milady, but under circumstances I'm afraid, I can't wed Lady Mary and Mr. Crawley. Lady Mary has freely admitted that she made her vows before God and two witnesses to marry a man other than Mr. Crawley. From the Church's point of view, we have to regard Lady Mary as a married woman. There will be no wedding and my decision stands firm."

"Oh for crissakes!" Matthew exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "I'm Percy! Happy now?"

Looking at the shocked faces of her family, Mary added with rolling her eyes into the silence. "Honestly! When have Matthew and I ever done things the proper way?"

And Sybil started laughing.

* * *

_Tbc_


	4. Chapter 4 - The golden age is before us

**Chapter IV**

_The golden age is before us, not behind us._

Isobel Crawley couldn't find anything remotely funny in it. Was her son schizophrenic? Instantly an entire catalogue of up to now almost unknown war-related psychic illnesses ran through her mind. Did he zone out, sport occasionally the 1000-yards-stare, did he experience night-terrors? Feelings of alienation? Guilt? Fits of violent rage? No, nothing of that kind to her knowledge, except his weakened back and the usual post-war nightmares. All in all, her son was remarkably well compared to so many others. Though, coming to think of his nightmares….their frequency was remarkably reduced since… six months.

Her eyes widened, when she made the connection. Just how often better yet how seldom had her son slept in his own bed at Crawley House since he got 'married' to Mary? She felt dizzy all of a sudden and she couldn't determine what sent her reeling the most: that he got married clandestinely, that he sent letters of a debased nature to Mary, that he used a nom de plume, his shocking lack of morals and total disregard of what was proper, that he sneaked out of the house during the night or that he didn't confide in her, when at least Moseley, Anna, even Carson, Mrs Hughes… and who else knew before her? She was crushed by disappointment, anger and shame.

"MATTHEW! How could you? This is not the way we reared you. When did you change so much that I can't recognise my own son anymore?" What had the War done to her beautiful, brave and first and foremost _good _boy?! She was nearly in tears.

He opened his mouth to defend himself against his mother.

"No, Matthew, please allow me." Eleanor interrupted him. "Dear Mrs Crawley, I can only imagine how you feel right now. When you look at your son, you probably still see the adorable, a bit shy, gap-toothed six years old with big blue eyes and a sweet smile, pockets full of small stones, thread, lint and broken buttons, skipping at the hand of his father and listening attentively, as Doctor Crawley teaches him right from wrong. But he's grown up now and went through a horrible war when he was forced to witness and do unspeakable things for King and country. And for a long, long while he had lost that sparkle and smile. But when I look at him now, the broken and bitter soldier is gone and I see a confident man in full bloom with twinkling eyes and a bright smile, ready to take his own son by the hand and teach him right from wrong. What Mary and Matthew did is wrong in general, but very right for them. They're so much in love and have finally found happiness. All else is insignificant compared to that. Now, after what they both went through and all these years they desperately tried to find their way to each other only to be torn apart again and again, can you be happy for them, too?"

Isobel stood up and walked towards the couple, who awaited her verdict half anxious, half defiant. She almost smiled at her identical facial expressions. So very Crawley.

"Mary, do you have to get married?" she voiced her last concern under her breath.

"No, Isobel. We don't have to get married. We may have gone astray for a bit, but we're not irresponsible. We just very much want to make our marriage legal. Besides, Matthew is tired of having to sneak into and out of the Abbey, though he's quite the A.J. Raffles, when he wants to be." Mary smiled tenderly yet proudly. Eleanor snickered amused.

"Mother, please understand I sleep better when Mary rests next to me at night. It's that simple."

"Then you have my blessing, my dears." She kissed Mary's front head and ran her hand caringly through her son's hair and a strand fell out of place.

"Thank you, mother." He kissed her cheek softly and returned to Mary's side who pushed the strand back in a tender gesture. Matthew caught her gloved hand and kissed the palm in thanks. They smiled lovingly and turned to the bewildered archbishop to encourage him to proceed.

"…. Now as I said before: Speak up or hold your peace forever…"

This time no one interfered and with a loud sigh the Archbishop continued reluctantly and with a frown. The bridal couple didn't seem to take their vows too seriously. In fact didn't cross Lady Mary rather cheekily and clearly visible her fingers when she was about to promise obeisance to her husband, whose only reaction towards it was to raise an eyebrow and then smile even wider? And didn't one hear snickers in the pews in reaction to this blatant disregard of the holy vows? The Archbishop was very enraged. Marriage was a holy sacrament and wasn't to be trifled with! But this couple spurned everything that was good and holy. First getting married before God in the middle of the night with vows made up on the spur of the moment as it seemed, then lived in sin for months, well not quite, but certainly not properly, deceived their poor family and turned their second wedding, if you'd like to call it like that, into a media frenzy and country fair. No, no, no! There was a proper procedure to adhere to! One could only imagine where it would lead to, if suddenly all bridal couples decided to forsake propriety and do as they saw fit. But this was just another consequence of the war: Morals had become optional. He resolved to instruct his vicars to put more emphasis on the strict adherence to the proper moral code in their Sunday sermons.

Finally, bride and groom exchanged rings, smiled and kissed shockingly chastely for such a frivolous couple and simply held each other, resting their foreheads against each other, smiling with closed eyes, savouring the moment.

Mary's family couldn't help but sigh relieved and thank God that only family and close friends attended this farce of a wedding. It didn't bear thinking what a scandal it would have been if the press had attended the ceremony or guests who were less bound by loyalty. Although their daughter got married properly this time, the Earl and Lady of Grantham couldn't help but feel disappointed and uneasy. It just felt wrong on so many levels and for so many reasons. But at least they were married now and there would be no child out of wedlock, but that was worrying in itself from a certain point of view. Six months of 'marriage'…. The earl didn't believe for one moment they only held each other chastely at night. The very nature of the letters Matthew apparently had sent repeatedly to Mary indicated a passionate relationship. In all probability there should be a little Crawley on the way by now. Even Cora and he managed… despite their less than happy start. Were there lingering _problems_ from Matthew's injury? The earl had always assumed with Matthew walking again, _all _was in proper working order. But what if it wasn't? And was there any way he could ask his son-in-law? Just thinking about that conversation let him break out in cold sweat.

On the other hand… there were certain items…but they were only used for the duration of the war for the soldiers as he understood. Where would one go and obtain these things in peace time? As a happily married man Robert readily admitted he had no idea. But Matthew with his war experiences should have contacts, know of addresses…..

Eventually he resolved to simply trust his daughter and his heir. Besides, even the Wellingtons had needed two years… though their marriage was one of utmost convenience and afterwards they had gone immediately their separate ways and then he had that affair with a dancer and she and the Russian diplomat had been the talk of two seasons consecutively... Cora nudged him and hastily he offered her his arm, when Mary and Matthew passed by on their way out.

Bells ringing, people shouting, photographers taking pictures, if Mr. Crawley and Lady Mary could turn just this way or that way, please, now smile, a bit closer now, if you please, chins dropped when they were bold enough to kiss shamelessly in public, ladies swooned …. It was mayhem. Philip discretely made his way over to the registry to get the motor. His friends needed saving.

People jumped aside, when they heard loud honking. Unceremoniously Philipp jumped out, while Matthew helped Mary into the open top car. And with another honking and squealing tires the bridal couple rushed off leaving the echo of their merry laughter behind.

"Oh dear, one can only hope the boy still remembers that the reception comes before the honeymoon." Violet commented drily.

"They have a suitcase with clothes for changing in the motor. The overseas trunks are already in London..." Cora answered with mounting horror.

"They can go anywhere they like." Edith stated very matter-of-factly.

"They wouldn't dare, would they?" Isobel hoped rather anxiously.

"After_**that**_ wedding I wouldn't put anything past them." Martha smiled."Finally two Crawleys more human than British. About time, if you ask me."

"Don't worry. They may have a wild streak a mile wide that's usually well hidden, but they know their duty. They will be up the Abbey and await us." Eleanor spoke up for them.

"You _do_ know them rather well, don't you, _Juliet_?" Violet's sharp eyes fell onto the young ginger head.

Eleanor smiled brightly at her with an even gaze. The thankful press lapped it up greedily.

* * *

To the family's relief Matthew and Mary were indeed up the Abbey. They found the runaways slowly dancing to one of these modern South-American tunes in the ball-room. Those among them keeping up with times identified it as a rumba. Clothes and hair were in perfect order. Well, apparently after six months of 'marriage' the urge had lessoned. Flashbulbs went off again and reminded everyone again of the fact that a selective group of press members were attending, too, on the insistence of the bridal couple at the very last minute and to the unease and bewilderment of the rest of the family.

Later up in the Abbey's festively decorated great hall Robert made his very much anticipated toast, and he made it with aplomb and grace, befitting of an Earl and the good man he was, glossing over where he could, playing it down where he couldn't. And then it was Philipp's turn.

"My lords and ladies, as the groom's best man it is my honour and pleasure to stand here today. A day most of us fervently prayed for, but few of us thought to ever come true with these two stubborn and proud souls. As it is also my prerogative to praise the couple, the bride's beauty and the groom's love for her, I shall tell you a short story how Matthew came to be known in our part of France as "Chouchou" as it is equally tradition to tell the wedding guests a most embarrassing story about the groom. Though in all honesty, I'm not sure, how I could top you, Matthew, as you've made such a mighty fine job of doing it yourself so far. But I'll try anyway. You see, there's a little story about Matthew's time in France, which covers all three aspects. My ladies, I entreat you to allow me a certain leeway, because, while this story might be of a … delicate nature, it is also a story of a great love. And no, Matthew, you're not allowed to hide under the table.

It was right after what is now known as the second battle of Artois in 1915. It had been the very worst for us so far and we were in Paris on leave designed to make us forget the things we had seen and done for at least a short while. Chouchou and I, among other lieutenants had found our small piece of peaceful heaven in a café on Montmartre. I'm afraid none of us were exactly sober anymore; in fact Matthew was as close to being three sheets to the wind as I've ever seen him before or after again. And suddenly there she was – 'La Magnefique' Yvette Ralentis, the most famous, beautiful and sought after cocotte in the whole of Paris, no, what do I say, the whole of France! Generals gave away their fortunes to spend even just an hour in her delightful company. She was the unattainable dream for the men in the trenches. Well actually not quite so unattainable, because from time to time, Yvette visited the cafés and took a lucky junior officer home for an entire night of unmatched pleasure. So this heavenly creature came in and looked around with an alluring smile, clearly on the prowl. God, did each of us hope we'd found mercy before her eyes. And what did happen? Her eyes fell onto Matthew nursing his umpteenth glass of whiskey in a shadowed corner and stepped up to him. She took his face into her hand and turned him into the light in a smooth caress and said '_Mon Dieu, quelle beauté! What beautiful blue eyes you have. But so sad. Come with me, mon petit chouchou, and I will make all the pain go away.'_ She smiled invitingly and didn't we all desperately want to be Lieutenant Matthew Crawley in that moment. Of course we expected him to stand up and follow her out. But what did he do? He pulled away and slurred _'Go 'way. Don' wan' you. Wan' Mary!' _And after this great declaration of love, our hero promptly fell out of his chair and passed out on the floor. And so it came to pass that Mary became a legend of beauty and the epitome of womanhood among us. Because one thing was clear: You didn't spurn 'La Magnéfique', if there wasn't somewhere a lady of an even greater prize. My lords and ladies, I entreat you to raise your glasses: To Mary and Matthew."

"Oh God, of all the stories to tell, you _had_ to choose this one, hadn't you?" Matthew's eyes were hard, but his voice was pleasant enough to fool most who didn't know him very well.

"Chouchou, would you rather I tell the story about how you lost Mary's little dog in no man's land and were almost demoted to lieutenant as a consequence in 1918?" Taken aback Philipp tried to mask the building fight with another dose of humour.

Matthew just groaned pained and shook his head.

"Good because this story isn't half as funny as your encounter with Yvette. My ears still ring from the dressing down the major gave you afterwards and I wasn't even in the same building. I think they may even have heard him shouting at you in Berlin. And don't think just because I'm here today I've forgiven you for pulling that crazy stunt, you mad idiot."

"Why does everybody tell me I'm mad today?" Matthew was petulant. " ... Hmh, perhaps there's some truth to it after all. One has to be at least slightly mad to marry a Crawley girl." Matthew contemplated, while staring into his glass of wine.

"I second to that."

"Tom Branson!" Sybil was outraged.

"Matthew, for this you will spend the next few nights in your dressing room." Mary glared at him.

"No, I won't." He argued back confidently and with a naughty wink.

"What makes you so sure that you don't?" Mary fought her smile.

"Because you will have way too much fun making me grovel at your feet to convince you why you in our bedroom and me in my dressing room, both of us lonely and cold in the night, is a fundamentally bad idea."

"If you think you can kiss your way out of the dog house…."

"Mary, please be quiet."

"But..."

"Hush…" He pressed his fingers against her protesting mouth for a moment. "All's fine."

"Ma…"

He kissed her briefly.

"I…"

He kissed her again more passionately and she visibly melted, before she rallied up against him, blinking the daze out of her eyes.

"Wait, we were arguing just now."

"Hmh." He brushed his nose against hers in a tender gesture.

"What were we arguing about?" Matthew raised his head to look into the far, obviously thinking very hard.

"It was about… No, it was... You know, I haven't the faintest." He smiled resigned.

"Me neither." She smiled ruefully.

"Good."

"Yes. Now kiss me some more before I get really cross." He happily complied with his wife's wishes and to the embarrassment of the audience.

"Never a dull moment in this family, Cora, girl. I've never had so much fun staying over with you in the old country. Looks as if you finally caught up with the 20th century after all. Now that you're completely unravelled you have the terrific chance of getting things right for once and get rid of all these outdated traditions and make a clean and complete fresh start."

"Martha, for once in your life, accept that we're in Yorkshire, not New York. We do things differently here and we very much prefer to do them differently and at our own pace. Thank you very much." Violet objected.

"This is why we call you the old country, Violet. Your time's over and if you're not careful, you will be left behind faster than you can think. Lochinvar, if you want to come far in life, get rid of the old pile and throw this pomp and circumstance over board and... Matthew, I think that's quite enough now... my boy... Mary, really... "

She shrugged helplessly. Philipp came gallantly to her aid.

"ATTENTION, CAPTAIN!"

Matthew jumped and released Mary.

"Enjoyed that much?" Matthew huffed.

"Far less than you did yourself just now, chouchou." He wasn't sorry in the least.

The assembled family and friends laughed and the inexplicable sudden tension between groom and best man dissolved for good.

_TBC_


	5. True nobility is exempt from fear

**Chapter V**

**_True nobility is exempt from fear_**

The guests settled down and servants began to flit about with trays to feed high and low aristocracy and the sprinkled in middle class family, friends and comrades of Matthew, when the man in questions called for their attention. Giving Mary's hand a squeeze he looked over the tables to the back, where all of the staff had assembled on Mr. Carson's order. The additionally hired footmen spread out on his command, carrying strong beverages and small flasks. The butler looked uncomfortable, but Mr. Crawley was the heir, so he obeyed. Robert raised his eyebrows. What was going on _now_?

"My wife Mary and I would like to thank for you attendance and sharing the most joyful day up to now in our lives. It makes us very happy to know we have your love and regard. And despite all of grievances these past days brought, we should like to toast to three most important people in our lives that can't be with us today, but are so very essential to us being gathered on this most happy occasion."

Mary stood up and Matthew raised their clasped hands to bestow a kiss on her knuckles, before he turned towards the crowd once more. Uneasy glances flitted across the family's faces. What was he up to? The guests and press sat up straighter. Would they acknowledge, what was revealed? Were they so bold? Oh, another scandal was in the making. How delightful! They pitied the ones who had preferred to stay away.

"First of all, we'd like to acknowledge my batman Private William Mason, who gave his life to save mine at Amiens when he threw me to the ground and himself over me to keep me safe from a shell. A brave man, steadfast, loyal, a good comrade and manservant, whose thoughts were always with the three "D's": his Dad, his Daisy and Downton. Daisy Mason, you married one of the best there ever were. And you made him the happiest man in his last hours, when you consented to become his wife. So let us drink to William, one of our very own here at Downton."

He raised his glass to the shy assistant cook at the back, who blushed furiously under his praise, but a nudge from Mrs Patmore made her straighten up and nod with a smile. She was special, she had been loved. She stood proud. Mr. Mason wiped his eyes with a handkerchief. His son and daughter-in-law were vindicated. He nodded thankfully to the young master.

A bit confused the aristocracy fell back on their manners and raised dutifully their glasses.

Mary spoke up.

"Secondly, we'd like to raise our glasses to Miss Lavinia Swire, the gentlest and sweetest of souls. I thank her for the many comforting, loving letters she sent to Matthew at the front to keep up his spirits. I thank her for her grace and deep love to want to share the life of a man confined to a wheel-chair. She will always have a special place in our hearts, because she had been loved by all of us. We hope to make you proud and happy, Lavinia. You always saw things much more clearly than we did and were much braver than we, when you wished to dissolve your engagement, while Matthew insisted upon doing the honourable thing and being true to his word no matter what and I was trapped in my own despair and misery. Lavinia, sweetheart, where ever you are, here's to you."

The murmur rose. This was most unusual, in fact scandalous. And a completely different tale of what they had been reading in the papers.

"And lastly, we'd like to acknowledge the late Mr. Kamal Pamuk, Ambassador of the Osman Empire. Without him, my darling Mary would not be the woman she's today and without him, I probably wouldn't love her as much as I do. We both went through the darkest of times and for all our tribulations and heartaches, we came out stronger and more bound together than we ever imagined we could be."

Now the murmur was a roar. How could he have done that? To confirm the vile story Carlisle had published? Wasn't it bad enough that most of society knew about Mary? Must all of England know about Mary's shame and point fingers at her?Did Matthew think that her marriage alone to him would salvage her or the family's reputation?

"Matthew Crawley, how dare you!" Robert roared.

"I dare a lot, Robert. For instance I dare to stand by the woman I love." Suddenly every inch the commanding officer Matthew looked hard at Robert, who acquiesced after a moment. He had sent his daughters away out of wounded pride and fear of losing the support of his peers and becoming the laughing stock of society. His own wife stood by him, now that everything was lost to them, for love and loyalty. He felt ashamed all of a sudden and he realised he had no right whatsoever to criticize his son-in-law. It was him who had dropped the centuries old ball and left his heir and his eldest daughter with nothing but each other and Edith with even less. And Matthew preferred to charge and challenge instead of hiding away in shame. They retaliated on their own terms by stating yes, it was true, but no, it didn't change one whit between them. They held their heads up high in dignity. And he resolved to follow their example, when he would send the advertisement to the newspapers to announce that Downton Abbey was for sale.

"Way to go, Matthew! Or would you rather I call you Percy as in Perseus, son of god?" Sybil voiced her support.

"Well, Robert, what did you expect? The flame sparked between them the very moment they laid eyes on each other." Isobel challenged him.

"Didn't it ever! "Sybil giggled. "I'll never forget the rousing tale of Andromeda and the sea-monster over dinner."

"That's in the past, let it rest there." The dowager countess tried to quell Sybil's tale. One mustn't set the tongues wagging even more. She would never be able to show her face again in polite society.

"We call it fighting. They call it making love - in public. Tom, you should have seen them that night."

"Sybil! I really don't think…" Cora admonished her. This was getting out of hand!

"What? That is the polite way of telling. I could also very easily tell how it really was: the battle of the sexes, gloves off, hot, passionate, aggressive underneath the thin veneer of politeness. I knew there and then they'd end up together. After all, Matthew is the only man I've ever met who can handle her. Though in all fairness, Mary is the only one who can handle him in return."

Matthew laughed out loud to cover his embarrassment. "Oh, Sybil. What a vivid imagination you have. I don't remember it quite like that at all."

"Neither do I. And I apologise, if that was the impression we gave that evening. We quarrelled as usual, this time over Greek mythology. It could have been any other topic. Don't make more out of it than it really was."

"Hmh, it was enough of a something, if you still refer to it in a most private way, Andromeda dearest."

"Well, they're very versatile. I thought them more Beatrice and Benedick in their early years." Edith quipped.

"How true! Even you, Granny, have to admit the Royal Shakespeare Company couldn't have casted a better Beatrice and Benedick with Mary and Matthew. I always found their quarrels and quibbles most entertaining. And I learnt a lot – mostly how to do it not." Sybil agreed readily.

Matthew winked at Mary, who glanced at him with a impish smile.

"_Come. I will have thee, but by this light, I take you for pity."_ Matthew quoted resigned.

"_I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion and partly to save your life for I was told you were in a consumption."_ Mary retaliated haughtily.

"_Peace! I will stop your mouth." _He quickly stole a sweet kiss from her smiling lips. "Still my favourite part of the play." He wriggled his eye-brows suggestively. The guests laughed, slowly getting used to the continued scandalous display of marital affection.

Robert took a deep and calming breath, forgetting the attending press for a second. "So, is there anything left, ANYTHING at all, you feel the need to reveal and we haven't read about in the papers yet?"

Carson coughed politely.

"I'm very sorry, sir, but Mrs Patmore is most embarrassed. The chocolate sauce for the sprinkling of the desert has gone missing. "

All heads swivelled around. The newly-weds shook their heads in denial.

"We know, Carson. Please send His Lordship's apologies to Mrs. Patmore." Cora's voice rang out, with a decidedly smug undertone.

"And they say we're the wild ones, Sybil, when you wanted to elope with me." Tom broke the quietness and after a nudge from his wife he continued. "Originally we wanted to keep it until after the wedding and not steal Mary's and Matthew's thunder, but we might as well say it now. Sybil and I, we're expecting our first child."

Cora squealed and jumped up, rushing over to her youngest daughter to embrace her fiercely.

"Oh darling, that's so wonderful! Oh, Robert, did you hear? You're going to be a grandpapa!" She released Sybil and hugged Tom just the same. Meanwhile Sybil went over to Matthew and Mary and gave him a long hug.

"We didn't say anything, when we told you first, but we decided to call him Matthew, if it's a boy."

"What? Not that I'm not flattered...but why?"

"Because you're the best big brother a girl can have, you've always looked out for me and protect me, even if I think I don't need it or when I was too young to see or appreciate it. You listen to me, when the rest of the family is cross with me and so far every Matthew in this family proved to be an outstanding man, so Tom and I need not worry much about his future. With a name like this he's going to have a good start into life. He probably will end up being Prime Minister of Ireland."

"Or Pope." Tom couldn't help himself.

Robert gasped and Carson hastily filled a glass with a liberal amount of whiskey and handed it over to his lordship. Emptying it in one go, the Earl of Grantham set it down again firmly.

"So be it." He nodded towards Tom.

"Robert!" The dowager countess voiced her indignation and dissatisfaction. There had never been a Catholic in the family and she wasn't about to let that happen now. Not as long as she was alive! Not that there was anything wrong being catholic per se, some of her oldest friends were catholic after all, but being nice wasn't a good enough reason to have them in the family!

But then Cora had caught up again and narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, when you told them?"

"Well, we told them first. Don't be cross with us, Mama, please. It's just we wanted so very much to tell you, but then you were so involved in the bad press and the wedding preparations... it just wasn't a good time to tell but I couldn't hold it in and Mary and Matthew were so relaxed and unflappable despite all, though we all know why now." She winked at them.

Cora walked up to her and smiled.

"It's quite alright, darling. Your father and I understand and we're very, very happy right now."

"Anything else?" Robert asked resigned.

Edith spoke up "Well, I guess you should know that congratulations are in order, papa. You've got another journalist in the family. I've been asked to write a column for the New York Times. Their editor-in-chief read the letters I wrote to Grandmama about my political and social observations on our lives here in Post-War Britain and offered me a position over there. And no, I won't live with grand-mama. I'm very determined to rent a small apartment and get by on my own earnings as a journalist. Really, I only waited for Mary's wedding. And before you get cross, when you hear from a third party, I tell you upfront: Matthew and Mary already know."

Robert fell heavily back into his chair. "Carson, never mind the ladies, give me the bloody smelling salts, before I pass out for good and tell me, when exactly did I die and why have you neglected to mention this small fact to me?"

"Milord?"

"Cora, old girl, I think it's time for retirement. We're becoming grandparents, and my heir has become quietly and under my nose without me noticing it, _pater familias_. Maybe it's time for us to step down and hand the torch over to the next generation."

"Well, this is what you get for marrying an American! I hope you are proud, Robert."

"Thank you mama, I take it as a compliment. I've got three beautiful and independent daughters who can think for themselves and are able to make their own decisions and stand up for their beliefs and their loves. I couldn't be more proud of them than I am at this moment. "Cora fought back.

Robert recovered quickly enough. After all, he went through a war, almost thirty years of feud between his wife and his mother and the raising of three daughters, while two of them could never be in the same room for five minutes without snapping at each other…

"Well, Edith, if you are so very determined, then I give you this advise: Go to America, show them what it means to be a Crawley woman, make your own way and find yourself a cowboy who shakes us up a bit. Because I want for you what I only ever wanted and got granted for my other daughters: Brave and good men who make my daughters happy. Because that's what you are, Matthew and Tom. And Matthew, your first born's better going to be a boy to make me forget you "tangoed" with Mary, before you "waltzed" properly. And another fatherly advice: Don't you ever have three daughters. You will love them to bits, but you will never rest easy at night again. They will wrap you around their dainty little fingers and there's absolutely nothing you can do but to offer total and unconditional surrender the moment you first lay your eyes on them. That's far easier in the long run, especially as they will be Crawley women from both sides of the family in your case Matthew... OH GOD, HELP US ALL! Son, better pray for boys. PRAY! For the sake of your sanity."

"Honestly, what _**IS**_ it with my sanity?" Matthew replied put out causing another round of laughter.

* * *

Overlooking the park Eleanor took a deep drag from her cigarette, when she heard a familiar cadence of steps behind her – Matthew. Silently he came to rest at her side. Eventually she fumbled with her purse to pull out her pack to offer him one without looking at him.

"No, thanks. Mary doesn't particular like the smell or the taste. From time to time I smoke with Robert a light cigar after dinner, but that's it. And I presume this will come to an end soon as well, if I don't want to sleep in my dressing room on these nights." He looked over on the green.

Eleanor nodded. Of course.

"So, Ireland." Matthew picked up.

"At least for six to eight months." He nodded. Of course.

"And afterwards?"

She shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Don't you ever want to settle down, Elli?"

"One day, certainly, but not quite yet. Were you serious about the flight lessons?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"No, you've become quite the accomplished liar and actor."

"Haven't we all? But, yes, I was serious."

"You miss it."

"No, of course... Yes, I do. Sometimes I'm just so goddamned bored! First it was the war, then it was my paralysis, the unresolved situation with Lavinia and Mary, then Lavinia died. And then it was Mary, all Mary and sneaking into and out of the Abbey, the wedding preparations, Carlisle petty revenge. And now...? Elli I'm deathly afraid of what I may become, now that all the excitement is gone. What if I'm not suited anymore to a normal life? What if Mary or this life isn't enough?"

"We're never more alive than when we are in death, aren't we? They can't understand it. No one can who wasn't there."

"I know I shouldn't feel bored and I am really most of the time just glad I survived it all. Yet... " he sighed. "I've never thanked you, have I? I was so very close to giving up." For the first time he looked at her.

"I know. And you did thank me." She turned to him.

They smiled briefly, but fondly at each other.

"Does Mary know?"

"No."

"Good. You know she _can't_ ever know."

"I don't _want_ her to know, either. Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I wonder if she didn't marry the sea-monster after all ... They're all dead." He added as an afterthought.

"No, not all."

He nodded slowly.

"I can only dedicate the rest of my life to become the Perseus she sees in me. I love her too terribly much to do less."

"I know you do. What about your plans for the future?"

"Mary's grand-mama told me Uncle Harold offers me a management position in the family company over in New York. A sort of wedding present. Mary's ambivalent."

"And you?"

"On one hand it might be just enough of a task to challenge me and keep me from getting bored. On the other hand I can't really see myself over there. Besides though my prospects are vastly reduced now, if we go, it will be like leaving the family in their hour of need. We don't want the easy way out. Maybe that will be my new war. Finding a job that earns me enough money to provide Mary with all she wants and needs, becoming a father. Some say parenthood is the most daunting task one can ever take on. We're both eager to find out." He smiled shyly.

"So it is true then?"

"I'm afraid so. It's all gone: the entire Grantham fortune. When Mary and I leave in a little while, we will leave for good. Thank God I never sold my old home in Manchester and we can start from there. In any case the big house will be closed and up for sale by the time we return. It cuts her up and there's nothing I can do. Do you happen to have a million pounds in your bonnet you can spare?" He smiled wryly.

"What about London?" She encouraged him subtly.

"What about indeed," Matthew pondered while overlooking the park that was once to be his.

"Just think about it, Romeo." She dropped her cigarette and stomped it out under her heel. "Shall we go in? You have a train to catch after all."

"Let's." Gallantly he offered her his arm.

* * *

Ende


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